


18 Glimpses

by sendal



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Sandra writes fanfic, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:45:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sendal/pseuds/sendal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In July I suffered a creative writing injury.  This is my rehab.  The first 18 are followed by the annotated versions. Thanks for reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	18 Glimpses

1

Skin and bones sting, polka dots block his vision, ceiling tiles buzz like bees. Phil's sudden voice and cool fingers: "You're going to be fine, Barton." Later, on their wedding night, lips tingle, eyes full of Phil, Tony Stark's ceiling tiles can mind their own damn business.

2

The desk sails proudly under Phil's command. He steers her across blue seas of bureaucracy, her noble prow riding high above the shoals of red tape. At night he brings her safely back to port, strides down the gangway, and relinquishes command in Clint's unwavering arms. Tomorrow will be another day at sea. Tonight is the safety of shore, and falling asleep in Clint's bed reading Patrick O'Brian on his Kindle.

3

The internet is no help at all. In the pastel-colored waiting room Clint flicks through site after site with trembling hands. The word 'melanoma' blurs and shifts on the screen. After the good news, Phil gives Clint a kiss for every page in his browsing history and promises to wear more sunscreen.

4

Missions often messily for the guy who's been stuck for endless hours in a sniper's perch. Clint's argument is that Phil shouldn't touch him until after a long session of soap and water. Phil's counter-argument is that he wants to clean, caress, and coddle his husband without delay. Compromise: an order to renovate all SHIELD safe houses with extra-large showers. Nick Fury approves the requisition with a sigh.

5

Before Phil loved Clint, he loved Steve. Or the idea of Steve. The handsome image, the virtuous ideals. The promise of a man standing up to evil. The real Steve is sometimes moody, often judgmental, and not always willing to consider another point of view. Still, the warmth of that old adoration has never faded. "He's a candle and you're a furnace," Phil assures Clint, who looks up from cooking spicy stir-fry with no idea what Phil is talking about.

6

Phil knows that Clint prefers cheap unwashed bandanas from dollar stores instead of luxurious silk strips. When Phil tries one, he spits out the bitter taste of fabric sizing. Grinning behind the knotted gag, Clint flexes under Phil's hand with that face that means, "Do your best old man." Phil obeys, and tightens the knots.

7

Phil's swimmers at Stanford are the best in the world. Or so he swears until the Olympic semi-finals, his first up-close look at Clint Barton representing Canada. The arms on that man. The way water rolls off his broad chest. The devilish smile when he accepts the gold and meets Phil's gaze across the deck. The engagement ring Clint slips on Phil's finger a year later is more than enough reason for Phil to pledge allegiance to a new flag.

8

Natasha has no patience for lover's quarrels. She orders Coulson not to move from the sofa and drags Barton out of the bedroom by his ear. That she is referring to them by their last names is enough warning for both men to abandon their sulkiness. After they kiss and make up, she rewards them with salted caramel ice cream. They make their appreciation known later, on new sheets strewn with flower petals, adoring her all night long.

9

"He's just like you," Phil blurts out during the movie, but Clint doesn't see it. A slight physical resemblance, maybe. But Aaron Cross is a fighter and survivor, unflinching against the dangers piled against him. Clint's a guy who gets up every morning and tries to keep pace with superheroes. It's not that Clint lacks esteem. He's a realist. Each year he's going to get fractionally worse at hitting the mark, ducking the punches, rolling away from danger. He's on a downward slope to decrepitude. Aaron Cross is fixed and steady on film, and the movie frames will never change.

10

Phil decides that today he won't go into the office. Instead he'll call in sick on his way to the Met. The museum will be closed to all but him. No fighting the strangling crowds as he winds his way through ancient civilizations, beauty enshrined in marble and stone. He'll fall in love all over again with the painted dreams of old masters and the crafted materials of new dreamers. In the cavernous halls he'll walk alone, marveling, until Clint meets him on a set of marble stairs. Clint is himself a vision of art, all that enormous strength and skill tucked under the sleek lines of a black tuxedo. "Or maybe I'll wear nothing at all, like those old Roman statues," Clint suggests as they lock up the apartment, coffee thermoses in hand, and go off to save the world.

11

Clint is baking to death on the embassy rooftop, his frail human body failing under the onslaught of tropical sun and superhot asphalt. Phil wants to cancel the op. Fury says keep going. The target is a man plotting the death of millions. Ominously quiet on the comms, Clint concentrates on one burning breath after the other. Phil's blood pressure rises so drastically that Sitwell calls in a medic. When the opportunity comes, the bullet from Clint's rifle goes three centimeters wide but decimates a skull anyway. Later, draped in cool sheets with an IV in his arm, Clint cracks open swollen eyes. This is the job, he reminds Phil. Phil wipes his own eyes and starts to plan their retirement.

12

Centurion Phillipus hates Britain and its incessant rain. He wishes he were back in Rome, where the sun warms the skin and the waters shine blue instead of muddy green-gray. When his men drag in the captive smartass with the blue eyes, Phil feels warm for the first time in years. After they go over the fortress walls together, Clint teaches Phil that his homeland is a land of wild and stormy beauty. Phil never sees Rome again, but he's home.

13

Suddenly cold, dread spiking through him, Clint opens the door to Phil's groans and the shape of Bruce Banner looming over the bed. Bruce's big hands are splayed on Phil's back, and Phil's body is pliant against the blue silk sheets. "The doctor told you to take it easy," Bruce chides, working on the knots. Clint stows his suitcase and takes over.

14

"Do I look like someone who'd enjoy yoga?" Tony demands, and Pepper closes the space between them with a coy kiss, a whisper, "I know the perfect instructor." For her sake Tony suffers a ride to Santa Monica, sullenly spreads a mat in the back of a class full of Pepper's supple friends, shows his disdain by keeping his sunglasses on. When Clint Barton walks in, perfectly sculpted body and sincere smile, Tony softens. When Clint does a downward dog, Tony hardens. It takes weeks of careful wooing for Tony and Pepper to lure Clint to their bed overlooking the Pacific. As it turns out, Tony enjoys yoga very much.

15

Clint knows there are frequencies he will never hear anymore, songs whose lyrics will never make sense. SHIELD and Stark do their best, but even the most excellent tech can't make up for permanent damage incurred during the Chitauri invasion. When Loki escapes and says, "I can restore your ears if you once again loan me your hands," Clint stabs him in the heart. From his hospital bed, Phil gives him two thumbs up.

16

The first time Clint wakes up, he blinks at Phil with no sign of recognition, grinds out syllables that make no sense, and falls right back to sleep. The second and third times, he seems more aware of his surroundings and returns Phil's grip on his hand. The fourth time, he fights the ventilator so much that the staff rushes in. After the vent is gone, he fixes Phil with a sour look and says, "You promised no tubes." Phil replies, "You had to breathe. I was willing to risk your disappointment in me." Clint grumbles but turns his face into Phil's palm, his chest rising and falling steadily.

17

In the middle of the night Steve wakes in a panic, unsure of where this bed is, what century hangs on the kitchen calendar, and whose voice will answer if he calls out. His feet take him through dark rooms and billowing curtains toward the pulse of the ocean. On a wooden patio overlooking sand and waves, he stares up at glittery stars that hold no answers. The door behind him opens and Phil, solid and reassuring, guides Steve with one hand to the king-sized bed of rumpled sheets. "It's vacation, don't wake me early," Clint mumbles as Phil puts Steve between them. Steve closes his eyes against a pillow that smells like Phil and waits for sleep to creep back in, friend no longer foe.

18

The new clerk watches an incredibly sexy and well-dressed man walk into the shop, oozing wealth and power beneath his gray suit. "Do you remember me?" Sexy Man asks Lawrence, who has been with the store longest and is insufferably smug. "I was in here yesterday and you refused to wait on me. You work on commission, right?" Sexy Man lets his cuff ride up, a Rolex on his watch. "Big mistake. Big. Huge. I have to go shopping now." Out on the curb, a man instantly recognizable as Tony Stark gives Sexy Man a kiss and ushers him into a limousine.

**THE ANNOTATED VERSION**

1

Skin and bones sting, polka dots block his vision, ceiling tiles buzz like bees. Phil's sudden voice and cool fingers: "You're going to be fine, Barton." Later, on their wedding night, lips tingle, eyes full of Phil, Tony Stark's ceiling tiles can mind their own damn business.

_(Exercise #1. Came out okay. Tony Stark is a voyeur.)_

2

The desk sails proudly under Phil's command. He steers her across blue seas of bureaucracy, her noble prow riding high above the shoals of red tape. At night he brings her safely back to port, strides down the gangway, and relinquishes command in Clint's unwavering arms. Tomorrow will be another day at sea. Tonight is the safety of shore, and falling asleep in Clint's bed reading Patrick O'Brian on his Kindle.

_(Paul Bettany and Russell Crowe, be still my beating heart! Though I've never really been able to get into the Aubrey-Maturin books.)_

3

The internet is no help at all. In the pastel-colored waiting room Clint flicks through site after site with trembling hands. The word 'carcinoma' blurs and shifts on the screen. After the good news, Phil gives Clint a kiss for every page in his browsing history and promises to wear more sunscreen.

_(I sat in many waiting rooms with my mom during her terminal illness. This room is at one of her specialist's offices.)_

4

Missions often messily for the guy who's been stuck for endless hours in a sniper's perch. Clint's argument is that Phil shouldn't touch him until after a long session of soap and water. Phil's counter is that he wants to clean, caress, and coddle his husband without delay. Compromise: an order to renovate all SHIELD safe houses with extra-large showers. Nick Fury approves the requisition with a sigh.

_(I don't think Nick would do that, or that it's economically or logistically feasible.)_

5

Before Phil loved Clint, he loved Steve. Or the idea of Steve. The handsome image, the virtuous ideals. The promise of a man standing up to evil. The real Steve is sometimes moody, often judgmental, and not always willing to consider another point of view. Still, the warmth of that old adoration has never faded. "He's a candle and you're a furnace," Phil assures Clint, who looks up from cooking spicy stir-fry with no idea what Phil is talking about.

_(I like Steve but needed to get some negative traits in here.)_

6

Phil knows that Clint prefers cheap unwashed bandanas from dollar stores instead of luxurious silk strips. When Phil tries one, he spits out the bitter taste of fabric sizing. Grinning behind the knotted gag, Clint flexes under Phil's hand with that face that means, "Do your best old man." Phil obeys, and tightens the knots.

_(My first dirty book was by Anne Rice.)_

7

Phil's swimmers at Stanford are the best in the world. Or so he swears until the Olympic semi-finals, his first up-close look at Clint Barton representing Canada. The arms on that man. The way water rolls off his broad chest. The devilish smile when he accepts the gold and meets Phil's gaze across the deck. The engagement ring Clint slips on Phil's finger a year later is more than enough reason for Phil to pledge allegiance to a new flag.

_(Olympic AU!)_

8

Natasha has no patience for lover's quarrels. She orders Coulson not to move from the sofa and drags Barton out of the bedroom by his ear. That she is referring to them by their last names is enough warning for both men to abandon their sulkiness. After they kiss and make up, she rewards them with salted caramel ice cream. They make their appreciation known later, on new sheets strewn with flower petals, adoring her all night long.

_(My favorite ice cream flavor. Well, one of them.)_

9

"He's just like you," Phil blurts out during the movie, but Clint doesn't see it. A slight physical resemblance, maybe. But Aaron Cross is a fighter and survivor, unflinching against the dangers piled against him. Clint's a guy who gets up every morning and tries to keep pace with superheroes. It's not that Clint lacks esteem. He's a realist. Each year he's going to get fractionally worse at hitting the mark, ducking the punches, rolling away from danger. He's on a downward slope to decrepitude. Aaron Cross is fixed and steady on film, and the movie frames will never change.

_(The movie isn't very good but I love all of Aaron Cross.)_

10

Phil decides that today he won't go into the office. Instead he'll call in sick on his way to the Met. The museum will be closed to all but him. No fighting the strangling crowds as he winds his way through ancient civilizations, beauty enshrined in marble and stone. He'll fall in love all over again with the painted dreams of old masters and the crafted glass and wood of new dreamers. In the cavernous halls he'll walk alone, marveling, until Clint meets him on a set of marble stairs. Clint is himself a vision of art, all that enormous strength and skill tucked under the sleek lines of a black tuxedo. "Or maybe I'll wear nothing at all, like those old Roman statues," Clint suggests as they lock up the apartment, coffee thermoses in hand, and go off to save the world.

_(Metropolitan Museum of Art in Manhattan: I would live there.)_

11

Clint is baking to death on the embassy rooftop, his frail human body failing under the onslaught of tropical sun and superhot asphalt. Phil wants to cancel the op. Fury says keep going. The target is a man plotting the death of millions. Ominously quiet on the comms, Clint concentrates on one burning breath after the other. Phil's blood pressure rises so drastically that Sitwell calls in a medic. When the opportunity comes, the bullet from Clint's rifle goes three centimeters wide but decimates a skull anyway. Later, draped in cool sheets with an IV in his arm, Clint cracks open swollen eyes. This is the job, he reminds Phil. Phil wipes his own eyes and starts to plan their retirement.

_(This has been the kernel of a story for years but I've never written it)_

12

Centurion Phillipus hates Britain and its incessant rain. He wishes he were back in Rome, where the sun warms the skin and the waters shine blue instead of muddy green-gray. When his men drag in the captive smartass with the blue eyes, Phil feels warm for the first time in years. After they go over the fortress walls together, Clint teaches Phil that his homeland is a land of wild and stormy beauty. Phil never sees Rome again, but he's home.

_(Rome AU!)_  

13

Suddenly cold, dread spiking through him, Clint opens the door to Phil's groans and the shape of Bruce Banner looming over the bed. Bruce's big hands are splayed on Phil's back, and Phil's body is pliant against the blue silk sheets. "The doctor told you to take it easy," Bruce chides, working on the knots. Clint stows his suitcase and takes over.

_(Just fun)_

14

"Do I look like someone who'd enjoy yoga?" Tony demands, and Pepper closes the space between them with a coy kiss, a whisper, "I know the perfect instructor." For her sake Tony suffers a ride to Santa Monica, sullenly spreads a mat in the back of a class full of Pepper's supple friends, shows his disdain by keeping his sunglasses on. When Clint Barton walks in, perfectly sculpted body and sincere smile, Tony softens. When Clint does a downward dog, Tony hardens. It takes weeks of careful wooing for Tony and Pepper to lure Clint to their bed overlooking the Pacific. As it turns out, Tony enjoys yoga very much.

_(Yoga AU)_

15

Clint knows there are frequencies he will never hear anymore, songs whose lyrics will never make sense. SHIELD and Stark do their best, but even the most excellent tech can't make up for permanent damage incurred during the Chitauri invasion. When Loki escapes and says, "I can restore your ears if you once again loan me your hands," Clint stabs him in the heart. From his hospital bed, Phil gives him two thumbs up.

_(Loki is not my favorite character.)_

16

The first time Clint wakes up, he blinks at Phil with no sign of recognition, grinds out syllables that make no sense, and falls right back to sleep. The second and third times, he seems more aware of his surroundings and returns Phil's grip on his hand. The fourth time, he fights the ventilator so much that the staff rushes in. After the vent is gone, he fixes Phil with a sour look and says, "You promised no tubes." Phil replies, "You had to breathe. I was willing to risk your disappointment in me." Clint grumbles but turns his face into Phil's palm, his chest rising and falling steadily.

_(Written at work. On lunch hour, of course.)_

17

In the middle of the night Steve wakes in a panic, unsure of where this bed is, what century hangs on the kitchen calendar, whose voice will answer if he calls out. His feet take him through dark rooms and billowing curtains toward the sounds of the ocean. On a wooden patio overlooking sand and waves, he stares up at glittery stars that hold no answers. The door behind him opens and Phil, solid and reassuring, guides Steve with one hand to the king-sized bed of rumpled sheets. "It's vacation, don't wake me early," Clint mumbles as Phil puts Steve between them. Steve closes his eyes against a pillow that smells like Phil and waits for sleep to creep back in, friend no longer foe.

_(Written in the middle of the night.)_

18

The new clerk watches an incredibly sexy and well-dressed man walk into the shop, oozing wealth and power beneath his gray suit. "Do you remember me?" Sexy Man asks Lawrence, who has been with the store longest and is insufferably smug. "I was in here yesterday and you refused to wait on me. You work on commission, right?" Sexy Man lets his cuff ride up, a Rolex on his watch. "Big mistake. Big. Huge. I have to go shopping now." Out on the curb, a man instantly recognizable as Tony Stark gives Sexy Man a kiss and ushers him into a limousine.

_(Pretty Woman AU!)_

 


End file.
